The Vampire's Apprentice
by Crystal-Nimrodel
Summary: Once upon a time, Hal York saw in Nick Cutler a most promising young apprentice.  It's amazing what a difference a week makes, especially when your fledgling struggles to live up to your expectations…
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Vampire's Apprentice

**Rating**: M

**Cast:**Nick Cutler, Rachel Cutler, Hal York

**Disclaimer:** I own no-one from _Being Human._All the rights belong to the BBC and I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing and online publication of this story.

**Feedback:**Is always much appreciated, thanks!

**Summary: **Once upon a time, Hal York saw in Nick Cutler a most promising young apprentice. It's amazing what a difference a week makes, especially when your fledgling struggles to live up to your expectations…

**Chapter 1**

It happened in seconds.

His throat was wet.

Something hurt.

That didn't make sense.

Then, unlike anything Nick Cutler had ever felt, the pain shot through his entire frame as if machine guns filled with bullets of fire emptied themselves into his soul.

He registered the heavy weight of the man leaning against him. No- pinning him against the wall. With a violent lurch of his stomach, he realised that the dampness on his neck was blood- his blood, and that the man currently fastened to his throat was _drinking_.

Cutler's stricken screams shattered the cell and he fought and struggled against his assailant with every muscle. Eyes wide as an owl's he heard his own heart thumping in his ears, felt the blood trickle down his clammy skin and tasted salty cold sweat on his parted lips. Gasping and panting to catch a breath, his brain frantically tried to make sense of what was happening to him, but found none.

The pressure suddenly released and through fogged, dim eyes, Cutler saw the man retreat a few paces, leaving him to slip down the wall into a heap on the floor. He tried to stand, but his legs seemed to have forgotten how to work. He tried to speak, but his tongue refused to comply. His arms lay like lead weights, pulling his shoulders further and further towards the icy cell floor.

He shuddered, though whether from the temperature, or from the hellish, unspeakable throbbing that pulsated through his body, Cutler wasn't entirely certain.

The man crouched down to his level and Cutler tried to lift his head to meet his gaze, but the effort proved too strenuous.

'Wh-what are you?' he managed to say, his voice a choked whisper.

The man gave a soft laugh like liquid silk. 'Hmm, interesting. Less expletives than usual. Oh, forgive me, Mr Cutler, I'm usually accustomed to people asking me what I've done to them, when the answer is, well, as you can see, ludicrously obvious.'

'Are y-you going t…'

'Sorry?'

Cutler swallowed, regretting it immediately as a bizarre sensation of air passing directly into his throat through his neck made him gag.

'…k-kill me?'

There was that laugh again. It made the hairs on Cutler's arms stand on end. His vision swam before him and little sparkles of colours danced across his eyes. His mind felt disconnected from his body.

'Of course not. If I'd wanted you dead, I would have done so. Silly boy, Nicholas.'

'Then, w-what?'

There was a slight shuffle of movement and Cutler inhaled sharply as he felt the man press close against him, felt the warmth of his breath on his ear…

'Tell me. Do you want to make history, Mr Cutler? I can give you everything you've ever wanted…all it takes is one little word…'

'I…'

The man glanced at his watch.

'In less than a minute, you will be dead, Mr Cutler. Loathe as I am to hurry you…'

'Yes…'

'Hmm?'

'Yes!'

If smiles could have been audible, Cutler had a feeling this man's would have been accompanied by a marching band and several choirs. As the edges of his vision began to grow dark, Cutler felt something soft, warm and wet forcibly pressed to his lips.

'Drink.'

'Mmpfh?'

'Drink, man!'

Something inside Cutler suddenly reared, and his arms sprang back to life. Without his permission, they grasped tightly at the object pressed against him and he drank, feeling his mouth fill with the taste of hot liquid metal – somehow the most thirst quenching and energising substance he ever had drunk.

He could feel life returning to his limbs...feel a strange heat rippling through his body like a sparkling electricity. His eyes began to focus again, and the dark blurred shapes around him began to sharpen.

As the world shifted back into view and the dense fog of his mind began to clear, Cutler also noticed that the raging agony in his neck was now little more than a dull ache.

Air rushed into his mouth as the source of that beautiful elixir was wrenched away. To his surprise, a sound akin to a whimpering mewl escaped his lips and he felt a great, inexpiable pang of loss. He wiped his mouth, feeling a slight dampness there.

Glancing instinctively down at his hand, Cutler's breath hitched and his eyes shot up, filled to the brim with terror, as the man who, sitting a little way across from him, cradled his bleeding wrist with little more than a paper-thin wince. If Cutler could have been more horrified, it would have been than , as before his very eyes, the deep gash on the man's wrist knitted together into perfectly smooth skin.

Then, out of nowhere, as if someone had plunged an axe into his abdomen, Cutler keeled over onto the ground into the fetal position. He clutched at his stomach, howling, with tears of abject terror and agony pouring down his stricken features.

'It'll be over soon. Ride it out,' that now familiar voice assured him through the blinding white pain. 'You and I, Mr Cutler. We are going to write history, and do you know what? We shall be glorious.'

* * *

><p>It was a sudden violent coughing fit that awoke him. The insides of his mouth felt as if packed with tiny furry animals, scratching and clawing at the back of his throat.<p>

Grappling around in his still dazed state, trying not to gag, he reached for the glass of water he always kept by his bedside, gulping it down. As the splutters subsided, he sank back onto his pillows, eyes closed for a few moments.

One dazed eye finally opened, followed by the other, as Cutler attempted to ascertain when precisely he had fallen asleep. He lay quite still, his brain aching as it tried to process and sort fact from fiction as his body returned reluctantly to full consciousness.

…Teeth.

He blinked some more, rubbing sleep from his heavy eyes and running his tongue along his jaw with a grimace. Had he cleaned himself at all before going to bed? Apparantly not.

Come to think of it, Cutler couldn't remember returning home last night, let alone getting into bed. He frowned deeply, trying to recall the night's events with immense difficulty.

'Ah, darling, you're awake!'

Cutler snapped out of his trance at the sound of his wife's voice. Rachel Cutler stood in the doorway of their bedroom, arms folded across her chest and wearing a knowing smirk.

'You look like hell, Nick,' she smiled with an impish glint in her eye. 'You never could handle your drink.'

Drink?

Cutler stared helplessly up at her, realising a few moments too late that his mouth was hanging open, giving him a rather impressive look of a surprised codfish.

He sat up once more, wishing suddenly he hadn't, as the room span, everything seeming a little too in focus and sharp for his liking. Dear God. How much _had_ he had?

'Sorry, Rach, I don't know what happened,' Cutler replied sheepishly but wholly truthfully. 'What time is it?'

She nodded at the clock on his bedside cabinet. 'A little after three.'

'In the morning?'

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes at her husband. 'Afternoon, sweetheart.'

Cutler stared.

'…WHAT?'

'It's fine, Nick, don't worry,' she said, sitting on the end of the bed. 'Must say, I'm grateful for your friends bringing you home – God only knows where you'd have ended up otherwise - Kent probably!'

'Friends?' Cutler frowned once more. That was strange. He barely knew anyone at work yet. Only Mary who cleaned his office and the two guys from accounting across the hall, but even then only in passing.

'Yes, it was a little odd though. They were already walking away after they left you in the doorway and knocked on the door. I tried to call after them, but I guess they didn't hear me,' Rachel shrugged. 'Still, you're home and that's what matters.'

Cutler swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. 'What did they look like?'

Rachel frowned thoughtfully. 'Hmm, I don't know. It was too dark to see really – but they're your friends Nick, surely you know what they look like,'

Cutler forced a mutual laugh. 'Yes…yes, of course.'

'Well, I must say I'm glad you're finally being social at work. It can only lead to good things, Nick. Good for you and good for us too come to that.'

Rachel laughed, stroking her husband's cheek with her thumb fondly, her expression knitting in concern.

'…Nick, you're all clammy – what's wrong?'

_Good for us…_

Cutler shook his resolve, biting his lips before shaking his head with a smile to fool the world. 'Nothing, love,' he replied, forcing confidence into his voice, 'just a bad dream.'

'You sure? Maybe it's best if you stay in bed today and recover – do you want some soup?'

'That'd be nice,' Cutler nodded.

Rachel smiled, leaning in to embrace her husband warmly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 'We'll have you right in no time, sweetheart.'

Cutler froze in her arms. He knew she was speaking words, but he felt suddenly like his ears had been filled full of water and he couldn't make any sense of what she was saying. All he could hear was a distinct, deep and somehow hot thudding. It reverberated in his ears and even through his body like he was pressed against the outside wall of a rowdy bar.

He swallowed, trying to get his ears to clear, and as he did so, his mind began to fog over, all other thoughts forgotten. Instinctively, his eyes darted to Rachel's skin. She had such a beautiful complexion – how did he not notice every moment of every day how soft, warm and palpable her skin was? How creamy and inviting it looked and how it drew him in.

Leaning in, he pressed a lingering kiss to her neck. 'You're beautiful, Rachel,' he murmured into her throat, voice husky, pulling her close and nuzzling gently. 'I should tell you every day – why don't I do that?'

She gave a soft laugh, winding her hands in his hair. 'Flattery gets you everywhere, darling…'

The thumping in his ears was getting louder by the moment and he felt it – through every fibre of his body he felt that pulsating rhythm, calling to him – begging him to jump, to fly, to bite…

Suddenly, to Cutler's horror and confusion, he felt himself salivating and with something akin to a strangled whimper, wrenched himself out of his wife's arms – shrinking back against the headboard, his breathing shallow and ragged.

Rachel stared at him, her expression unreadable as anything other than fear.

'Nick? Nick, what's wrong?'

Cutler couldn't reply. The thudding in his ears was clearing a little but his eyes stayed locked on Rachel's throat. What in the world was happening to him? Whereever did such terrible thoughts spring from?

It must be the alcohol, he reasoned, trying to calm himself down. He swallowed, his mind racing before he jumped from the bed, pulling his clothes on, not caring with his coat.

'I need some air…not well…' he managed to croak out, not daring to meet Rachel's frightened, worried gaze.

'I'll come with you!' she sprang up.

'No!' He didn't mean to shout and a whole new wave of guilt swept over him as his wife shrank back a little at the sudden violence in his voice.

'No…' he said, a lot softer. 'Sorry, Rachel…I need to be on my own for a while. I won't be long, I promise. I just need to clear my head.'

'Alright,' she replied. 'But Nick, take your coat – it's freezing out there!'

He grabbed his coat from the peg behind the door, wrapping it around him as quick as his trembling hands could manage before swiftly exiting the room, heading out the door – the first time in their lives he had neglected to kiss Rachel goodbye.

* * *

><p>Once outside the house, Cutler walked as fast as he could down their street, mind in as much of a whirl as the autumn wind that buffeted around him. He rounded the corner and stopped dead, staring straight the man that stood barring his way, wearing a smirk as sharp as his tailored suit.<p>

'Hello again, Mr Cutler. I trust you slept well?'

Cutler couldn't speak. He couldn't move.

He wasn't even aware of his hand raising itself to his neck, feeling the little heat in his face evaporate as the memories of the night before came crashing back into his mind as if someone had wrenched open a dam.

'You…' he managed to get out. 'What the HELL did you do to me?'

Hal looked faintly disappointed. 'Now, now, Mr Cutler, there's no need to shout. We're both civilised gentlemen– let's go somewhere and talk, hmm?'

In one swift movement, Hal was at Cutler's side, one arm around his shoulder before Cutler could protest otherwise.

'Keep walking, Mr Cutler. Yes, that's right...just keep on walking…'

Cutler's feet seemed to have been activated by Hal's voice and they obeyed him without question.

'W-where are you taking me?'

'Shhhh, Mr Cutler. You'll spoil the surprise – just keep walking…'


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Vampire's Apprentice

**Rating**: M

**Cast:**Nick Cutler, Rachel Cutler, Hal York

**Disclaimer:** I own no-one from _Being Human._All the rights belong to the BBC and I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing and online publication of this story.

**Feedback:**Is always much appreciated, thanks!

**Summary: **Once upon a time, Hal York saw in Nick Cutler a most promising young apprentice. It's amazing what a difference a week makes, especially when your fledgling struggles to live up to your expectations...

Chapter 2

"The Green Fairy" was a quaint bar just on the outskirts of downtown – a halfway house for local office workers during the busy lunchtime hours before their next thrombosis inducing meeting. Come sundown, it became a magnet for anyone who was anyone who had a taste for partying and beer on champagne money. The "Fairy's" regulars all owned an exclusive entry pass, akin to obtaining a black Amex. For that reason amongst various others, the locals tended to steer clear, favouring less exclusive hotspots in their never ending quest for oblivion.

Cutler had never been. He rarely went out in the evenings these days anyway. He was either too shattered from work, or just plain could not be bothered. For a few years now it was beginning to dawn on him how he felt he was getting old before his time, but what bothered him more was that this didn't seem to bother him. If he did venture out, it often was just him and Rachel and he liked it that way.

Yet now, he found himself standing in front of the very pub he had always avoided. So far Hal didn't appear to be looking at him as if he was dinner, but still, something was strange about the way his companion stood – eerily quiet for the last few minutes.

Feeling a little braver now they had stopped walking, Cutler tested the waters, finally daring to speak.

'You never answered me last night' he said, feeling a rush of anger at his own voice for coming out as a nervous croak, rather than the brave, clear timbre he had intended.

Hal however did not respond. Instead, his gaze was firmly glued to the pub in an almost fond manner. From inside the pub opposite the "Fairy" came the hubbub of cheerful voices, laughing and making merry and Cutler felt his confidence grow in the knowledge that there were people nearby. He cleared his throat loudly.

'I said you never -'

'-all in good time, Mr Cutler,' Hal replied quietly, a ghost of a smile flickering over his freshly balmed lips. 'And you have plenty of that now.'

Cutler frowned. He'd always hated cryptic puzzles, but that was nothing to how he felt about people who insisted on speaking only in riddles. If he hadn't been quite so worried that his fist might have been bitten off, Cutler would have smacked Hal in the jaw there and then. The feelings of bravery intensified as he stared at Hal's impassive face to be replaced by a bubbling anger and confusion.

'What did you do to me?' Cutler hissed through clenched teeth. 'For God's sake, Mr York, I thought…!' His voice cracked and faltered as all bravery fell away and he suddenly became intensely fascinated by his own shoes.

Slowly, Hal lowered his gaze to face the young solicitor, the mild smile broadening. 'You thought…what, Mr Cutler?'

Cutler shook his head, the fire of his eyes burning giant invisible holes in the toes of his ridiculously polished shoes.

'Go on, Mr Cutler. I promise you nothing you say shall surprise me in the least.'

Hal's tone was measured and careful, softer than usual as if he were attempting coax a terrified rabbit from its hole.

Cutler swallowed, immediately wishing he hadn't, as hi throat seemed so dry that it burned.

'I…' he began, not meeting Hal's eyes. 'I thought I was going to hurt Rachel.'

The pit of Cutler's stomach fell out and he felt his soul turn cold as Rachel's hurt, confused face flashed across his memory. The glimpse of fear in her eyes. He had frightened her – actually frightened the only person who understood him, who he turned to in every crisis, who had always been there in his darkest moments.

_Who couldn't be there now_, that horrible little voice in his head triumphantly whispered.

Oh God…

'Rachel?' Hal's tone was inquisitive.

'My wife.'

'Ah.'

Hal's expression was truly peculiar in that moment and it was likely a merciful blessing that Cutler remained oblivious to the cocktail of emotion that poured across Hal's face in quick succession. First, a deep frown, followed seamlessly by a puzzled and almost childlike curiosity and finally, a crescendo of triumph before it settled gently into a calmer contemplativeness, as Hal brought a steady hand to rest on Cutler's shivering shoulder.

'But you didn't?'

'What?'

'Hurt her.'

Cutler's gaze snapped up, his eyes wide and defiant. 'No! No, of course not!' he gasped, incredulous. 'I could never hurt her! I love her!'

'I see.'

Whatever Hal was about to say next, was interrupted as the door of the pub opposite the _Fairy_ swung open and a young couple stumbled out onto the street. They clung to each other, laughing raucously before clumsily and only partially successfully snogging each other's face off against a nearby picnic bench.

'Love's young dream,' Hal observed pointedly, adjusting the cashmere scarf around his neck with a sigh and taking a seemingly blank green card from his inside pocket. 'Shall we go inside, Mr Cutler? I think we both could use a drink.'

* * *

><p>Inside the<em> Fairy<em>, an air of drunken calm descended. It was a most bizarre atmosphere that sent chills up Cutler's back. The pub was pretty full of patrons, but they were all talking quietly, some in quite definite undertones. However the smell of alcohol hung in the air, along with the cigar smoke and another lighter but spiced, smokey scent which Cutler couldn't place.

It was like a library. If libraries served champagne and reams of exotic cocktails, and painted their walls emerald green and decorated their ceilings with gold leaf.

Cutler couldn't help but stare at the luscious décor. A passer by would never think such an interior could be nestled between the greasy café and bus stop on either side outside. Certainly the plain outside belied none of the secrets that lay beyond the door, guarded attentively by an unassuming man in a plain suit.

Cutler looked towards the bar, where, between the stacks of intriguing looking spirits was a framed notice, entitled "Code of Conduct". Well, that went some part of the way to explaining the behaviour of the patrons, certainly!

'Hal, good to see you again! We've missed you,' came a low voice.

Cutler looked around, to see a bearded man standing on Hal's left. He too was wearing a suit, but looking decidedly rumpled as if he'd run straight across downtown in a particularly violent gale.

'Hello, Dennis.' Hal replied, with a nod and a polite smile of acknowledgement.

'Come and join us, Hal?' Dennis nodded to the far corner of the bar, where a huddle of three other men sat, watching with interest.

'Love to another time, Dennis. Business tonight, you see.'

Dennis' eyes flicked over to where Cutler stood and a smile that made the hairs on Cutler's neck prickle, lit up his features.

'Ah, business, of course. No worries, sir. All the best, sir.'

With a nod and a grin, Dennis departed, rejoining his companions at the bar. Cutler wasn't sure, but he had a horrible feeling that under the ripple of laughter, he heard his name.

'Business?' Cutler ventured.

'Yes. Come on.'

They settled on a table a little way from the bar and before he knew what was happening, Cutler found a whisky and soda pressed into his hand, chilling his skin.

'How did you…?' Cutler blinked down at his favourite drink.

Hal smiled over the rim of his glass, sipping the strong spirit. 'Oh, I know plenty about you, Mr Cutler. I am very…thorough in my research.'

'You've been watching me?' Cutler's eyes widened and he set the glass down on the table.

'Studying you.'

'It's the same thing!'

'No, it isn't. And please don't shout. They don't like it in here.'

Cutler glanced around, feeling several pairs of eyes staring disapprovingly already at their table.

'I bloody well will shout if I want to!' he stared at Hal, wondering why he hadn't been more forthright before now and only dimly registering he was on his feet. 'Answer me properly, dammit! Who are you? What do you want from me and what the bloody hell did you do to me last night?'

A ringing silence fell and not from the rigorous following of the Code. Every pair of eyes in the _Fairy_ was fixed on the pair. The only sound being footsteps as a tall man approached Hal, placing a bejewelled hand on his shoulder.

'Hal. You know our Code. Any more noise and I shall have to ask you to leave.'

'I know, Rupert, it won't happen again,' Hal replied with a firm nod to Cutler. 'Please, Mr Cutler, sit down.'

'Tell me!'

'I will. Sit. Please.'

Slowly, Cutler lowered himself into his chair and Rupert departed, collecting empty glasses in his wake. Hal sighed, taking a second draught of his drink. 'Really, Mr Cutler, I expected better behaviour from a man of your calibre.'

'Better behav-?' Cutler gaped at him, trying his hardest not to shout, as he really didn't like the way a pair of older men had been looking at him moments before 'You won't answer me!' he hissed. 'I just want to know what you did – why I…why I nearly hurt my wife, for the love of God!'

Hal gave a low laugh accompanied by a matching smirk. 'God? God has nothing to do with us, Mr Cutler. We are free men. We are powerful men and we are gods of our own kind in this ridiculously small world.'

Again with the riddles. Cutler wasn't sure how much longer he could stand this. 'See? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why won't you answer me properly?'

'You're a vampire.'

A second silence fell.

This time, not around the bar, but inside Cutler's own head. No words came forth. No thoughts swam by to help the words along. He just sat and stared at Hal as if he had gone utterly mad. Then, finally, he laughed.

'What?'

'You wanted direct, Mr Cutler.'

'Yeah, direct, not insane!'

'I assure you, I am quite in control of my own mind.'

Cutler paused, trying to process the words coming out of Hal's mouth.

No. Wasn't going to happen. He could start shouting again but as much as he wanted to, that didn't seem to be getting him the answers he wanted. He needed to know what was wrong with him, and something inside him told him that Hal was the key. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to know why he had wanted to bite Rachel's neck and…

He shuddered, feeling a bizarre wave of both nausea and incredible hunger sweep through him.

'You brought me home last night, didn't you?'

Hal nodded. 'I did.'

'Why?'

'You were unconscious.'

'Why?'

Hal sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. 'Truly, it really is like training a toddler sometimes. Unless I am mistaken, Mr Cutler, you are not crawling on your knees and dribbling, therefore I am correct in assuming that you are a fully formed adult?'

'What?'

'I shall take that as a yes. Mr Cutler, I am running out of patience and I assure you that you categorically do not want that to happen, understood?'

Cutler swallowed, feeling a shift in the air around them as Hal glared at him, the softer notes of previous expressions suddenly hardened.

'Understood.'

'Good.'

Hal drained his glass, nodding at Cutler's untouched whisky.

'I haven't poisoned it, if that's what you think.'

'Oh no, I -'

'-and don't lie to me, Mr Cutler. There are only two things I hate with a real passion in this world, and that's liars and _Dirty Dancing_!'

Feeling it would be better to not respond, Cutler gave a weak smile and sipped his drink, immediately feeling the heat of the alcohol ripple through his veins, lifting him.

'As I was saying,' Hal continued, 'you are a vampire, Mr Cutler. As am I.'

Cutler opened his mouth to retort, but Hal held up a hand, silencing him. 'No, Mr Cutler, the floor is now mine. You drink. I speak. Yes?'

Cutler drank.

'Fantastic. Already, as I'm sure you have felt, your body has begun to change, to have urges you've never felt before – like with your wife.'

Cutler glanced up.

'Those urges will only get stronger. Frankly, I'm impressed you managed to control yourself and I admit I am curious as to how. For now, we'll just put it down to sheer chance that your wife is still alive.'

Cutler swallowed. 'What are you saying?'

'Tell me, Mr Cutler, how do you feel? Light headed perhaps? I know you're quite the lightweight when it comes to alcohol,' he added with an impish grin.

Cutler glanced down at his glass which now only contained rapidly melting ice cubes and he frowned. He felt absolutely fine.

'Not at all…' he replied, confused. 'But you're right, usually…'

'Alcohol will not longer have such a hold on you, Mr Cutler,' Hal continued. 'I have given you a gift of a world with such highs that you will never want to come down. Such feelings cannot be described, they must be felt. You will feel ecstasy without guilt. I can teach you that, Mr Cutler. I can teach you to live as you never lived before.'

'But, my wife. You have no idea what I thought…what I wanted to do to her!' Cutler's voice was desperate, pleading.

'You will learn, Mr Cutler. I can promise you that. Just let me show you.'

'How? I don't want to ever think that of Rachel again, you understand? I can't! It's…it's…'

'It's what you are now.'

'Then I don't want it! Take it back!'

Hal laughed, staring at Cutler as if he'd just invented comedy.

'Well, that's a new one. Mr Cutler, you really are quite the toddler, aren't you? I suppose it would be endearing to someone with more patience with children.' Hal paused, before gesturing at the bar where behind, a pretty woman in a particularly figure hugging dress stood, cleaning glasses.

'Look at her, Mr Cutler. Look. What do you see?'

Cutler followed Hal's indication.

'A woman,' he shrugged.

'Look harder, Cutler. What do you really see?'

Cutler turned to look again and as he did so, the barmaid happened to look up, catching his eye with a shy smile on her face. Setting down the pint glass she was tending to, she bit her lip slightly, cleavage on full display as she bent to clean the surface of the bar.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a deep, reverberating thudding filled Cutler's ears, sending shivers of inexplicable desire through him. He swallowed hard, vaguely aware that his breathing had become more audible than usual. But that didn't matter now. He didn't care who heard him. His eyes were locked to her, to her beautiful motions as she swept her hands across the bar…such delicate, gentle wrists. How easy they would be to break…

'You want her, don't you?'

Hal's voice was a dim echo in the descending fog of his mind. Cutler registered it and he nodded.

'Well, you can't have her.'

As the barmaid made her way through the door at the back of the bar, and out of sight, Cutler felt the oppressiveness on his mind lift and he glanced at Hal, feeling glazed as if he had just inhaled some particularly potent pot.

'Why not?'

Even his voice sounded unfamiliar.

'She's too well known around here. That's your first lesson, Cutler. Never barmaids. They're too well connected. Even without family, they have enough people who would come hunting and trust me, especially here, the people these people know are not the kind you want on your tail.'

Hal sat back in his chair, watching Cutler with interest on his face.

Cutler meanwhile sat, adrift in the sea of emotions and thoughts clouding every part of him. 'What…what now then?'

'Now?' Hal raised a brow, before signalling for their bill to be brought to their table and gathering up his coat with a broad grin. 'Now, Mr Cutler, I shall show you some real sport.'

'


End file.
